


Companionship

by BlueEyedArcher



Series: The Legend of Bat Reid! [7]
Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bat Reid, Choices, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, hard choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:33:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24433627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: Geoffrey is faced with a hard choice when he finds Reid's broken body, badly wounded in an alley.
Relationships: Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid
Series: The Legend of Bat Reid! [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736608
Comments: 12
Kudos: 113





	Companionship

Geoffrey found his patrols were less tedious with the additional company. Long nights were less lonely and each day wasn't as daunting. The reasoning behind this sudden change was the continuous presence of the doctor. Some days Reid would accompany him around Whitechapel in his usual attire, tending to the sick and needy as they passed by. But most days, he dismissed his mortal appearance in lieu of the smaller easily concealed bat shaped one. 

At first Geoffrey regarded it as a hindrance as Reid tucked into the folds of his scarf and nestled against the warm crook of his neck. It felt strange to have the subtle weight over his breast that would occasionally wiggle, squeak and squirm against him in some manner of mischief. He would bite out a quiet warning against Reid having any wise ideas of trying to feed on him when he was distracted. The nights would near their end and Geoffrey had grown used to feeding the tiny bat by hand while he'd speak ever so gently to him, discussing his thoughts and concerns. Reid would listen, as he always did in either form. After all, he was particularly good at that. And they would part before sunrise, returning to their respective duties for the morning.

Geoffrey found that, more often than not, Reid would come to him in his bat form and remain as such when he was stressed. He would cling desperately to Geoffrey in any manner possible and find comfort in strange perches around his chest, shoulders and neck. Sometimes, if Geoffrey was in his office, Reid would climb up to perch atop his head or hang playfully from Geoffrey's fingers as his wings stretched and climbed from digit to digit with growing skill.

Reid would transform back if Geoffrey needed him to, borrowing the spare set of clothes from the wardrobe to make himself decent as he'd settle down in the adjacent seat. Even then, the ekon's friendliness in close quarters was apparent. Geoffrey couldn't tell if the bat side had lingering impulses or instinctive needs related to warm bodies, or if Reid had grown used to their friendliness and just indulged a little more frequently in his desire for close physical contact. Geoffrey noted how painfully touch starved Jonathan often was in the beginning. How he lingered after contact was initiated, the way his gaze flickered between them expectantly but never speaking on _what_ he wanted. Geoffrey wondered about it more often than he'd like to admit, and he'd refuse to elaborate on his own feelings regarding it all.

In truth, he liked it. 

He missed it during the long nights when neither of them would cross paths. He'd find the questions settling on his lips before he'd squash them when Jonathan would assist the hunter on patrols in his human form. He'd ignore that nagging desire for Jonathan to tuck close to him, to feel the pressure of another body beside him and that sluggish pace of his heart thumping steadily against his ear. How his own mortal heart would submit to the most primitive instincts despite years of self-control, and beat frantically in excitement any time he glimpsed the ekon's teeth and claws at work. How his thoughts would race by when they'd near the most sensitive parts of his body. Or that he enjoyed the clinical scrutiny in which Jonathan would examine him after fights, panic laced desperation to suss out any potential wounds and tend to them. Whether Geoffrey agreed to it or not.

The hunter would play a good game of despising the ordeal, but the truth was he enjoyed the touch of tender cool hands on his warm skin. The soothing smoothness of his voice, made so even more by that prim and proper mannerism. That gentleman's smile that was uniquely more tender, reserved just for Geoffrey as he neared. The way they would brush foreheads together or kiss in the small private moments when the world would allow such sweetness to pass between men. It was simple and easy. Geoffrey craved it, he wanted it with everything he had and then some. He fought and bled for it, though the latter, the good doctor would determine an unnecessary requirement. Geoffrey begged to differ. He enjoyed when Reid would take care of him, just as much as he enjoyed taking care of Reid when he was small and vulnerable in his other form.

Geoffrey sighed, the night was unusually quiet and that distant ache of loneliness had started to nestle into the center of his chest. His crossbow felt heavy on his wrist tonight, a strange restlessness settled into his bones, as if he were waiting for something to happen. For the peace to snap like a twig and some unforeseen beast to come hurtling out of the darkness. It left him itchy and uneasy, his eyes searched the streets as he passed, determined to find the source of his distress. 

It came in a shrill screech, an unholy sound that didn't sound quite like a skal but not quite human either. An animalistic noise, high pitch and keening that drew his attention. Possibly a sewer beast? The thought had crossed his mind as he rushed around the corner, seeking out the source of the scream. A shadow darted across the alley, too quick for Geoffrey to make out what it was. Blood splattered the cobblestones and mingled with the debris as something writhed and struggled in a pile of trash. More blood spread from the tiny form as Geoffrey approached, more curious than wary.

His eyes widened in horror when the leathery appendage of a bat stretched out, the membrane of its wing was shredded as blood seeped out in sluggish dribbles. The eyes were closed, its tiny chest heaving in and out each breath with desperation as tiny pained sounds met the cold night air. It flapped and flailed weakly in a futile attempt to get away from what Geoffrey assumed was him, an unknown predator approaching in its panic.

"Reid?" Geoffrey asked softly, crouching down to carefully scoop up the tiny creature into his hands. Another shrill scream erupted from the vulnerable creature, teeth bared in fury and fear as it struggled to get away from the pain his hold caused it.

Geoffrey's heart ached but he knew he couldn't leave him here like this. Whatever had done it would return to finish the job, if the wounds inflicted on the ekon didn't seal his fate already. Jonathan had informed him once, a long time ago, that injuries he sustained in bat form lingered longer than when he was an ekon. His advanced regenerative abilities were limited in his animal form, making him more mortal than ever before.

With that information bouncing around inside his head, the very real fear that these injuries could be fatal were like a dagger through his heart. Geoffrey wasted no time as he raced back to Priwen with the little bat held close to his chest, trying not to jostle or shake him too much. His footsteps were louder than ever before on the cobblestones as his heart leapt into his ears and sounded off like a war drum.

O'Connor stared in confusion as their leader darted through the front door like the devil was upon him. He stood from his seat at the kitchen counter where he had a series of tools laid out where he had been doing maintenance to his shotgun. The pallor of Geoffrey's face and the panic in his eyes drew him closer. The Hunter unfurled his stained hands to expose the broken bloody figure of the tiny bat.

"What happened to him?" O'Connor asked as he ushered Geoffrey towards the living room, grabbing towels to lay Reid down on, on the sofa. It wouldn't be the first time he has unexpectedly turned back and they would rather it not result in broken furniture or further injury. Geoffrey knelt beside the couch, his fingers gently stroking Reid's matted fur as the tiny body struggled to breath. His wings twitched in subtle sharp movements, crippled by pain.

"Something attacked him." Geoffrey stated flatly. "I think I scared it off but I couldn't get a good look at what it was."

O'Connor nodded in understanding as he retreated to the kitchen to find their first aid kit. Geoffrey remained by the ekon's side as he murmured softly to him. "It's alright Reid. You're safe now. We're gonna fix you up right and proper." 

The bat leaned into Geoffrey's touch, tilting its head to brush against his fingers in a tiny squeak. A moment later, a shroud of shadows unraveled the doctor in his human form. The injuries were far bigger now, nasty slices that gouged across his arms and dug into his sides. One leg was improperly angled, broken in two places and massive teeth marks littered his shoulder and back. The injuries bled sluggishly across the towels, some stained the sofa cushions despite O'Connor's best efforts to avoid it. 

"I'm no doctor but I've patched up enough of our boys to give your body a boost." O'Connor informed lightly as he settled down beside the sofa. He quietly ushered Geoffrey out of the way, causing the hunter to linger behind it and fret silently as his second tended to the ekon's wound. Jonathan was unconscious now, his writhing had ceased. His pale body had gone completely still. _Like a corpse._ Geoffrey's thoughts so unhelpfully supplied. He shook the thought away and forced himself to do something other than stare over O'Connor's shoulder.

He decided to take a cue from his Second and focus on his own equipment. His steps were slow as he wandered over to the kitchen table and started the tedious task of disarming. It was familiar, repetition that soothed his anxious fingers and that underlying hum that compelled him to return to the doctor's side. It was hard to ignore the situation just a few paces away from him, especially when O’Connor reset the bones in Jonathan’s leg, drawing an agonized scream from the ekon. His claws ripped into the couch cushions as he writhed, very narrowly avoiding O’Connor's arm in the blind swipe to defend himself.

“Easy there Reid. Easy.” O’Connor tried to sooth the ekon, his palm caressing the side of his face as he inspected the unnatural pallor even for his kind. The whites of his eyes showed as his eyelids fluttered part way then fell shut in a feverish moan. A few more quick sutures from O’Connor’s experienced hands and the doctor was mostly back in one piece. His leg was splinted with the help of an old broom handle sawn in half with two belts synching it down, one at his ankle and another above the knee. Geoffrey returned to help O’Connor mop up the blood, wiping the dark streaks away with damp clothes, the hunter’s hands steadied over the ekon's chest.

Jonathan’s breathes were slow and frightfully shallow. The dark shadows under his eyes were a morbid precipice, a maw that threatened to devour the hollow edges of his features. The sickly criss cross of stitches were a roadmap across his body, each its own terrible promise. Were he mortal, Geoffrey wondered, which would have been the fatal mark? What would have ended the doctor’s life? Which one would have bled him like a stuck pig, to be found when morning came?

It was hard to dispel the tormented thoughts that littered his mind. The fears that welled up like a tar pit, sticking and stinking. His thoughts were shattered by the warm comforting hand of his Second as it rested across the curve of his back.

“He’ll be fine.” O’Connor assured. “He’s a strong one.”

“Aye.” Geoffrey sighed, withdrawing the bloodied rag to soak into a basin of water. He wrung the dark droplets out, watching the crystal clarity turn an ugly rusted red. “We should probably move him somewhere else before the sun comes up.”

“I’ll get Bonner and Babic to assist.” The hunter nodded. It was a subtle bob of his head, blue eyes never tearing away from the concerning view. Jonathan had never looked so lost. So absent of life. So _still._ Even when Geoffrey had watched him sleep during the day, with the ekon tucked close to his side after their nightly adventures. He still had a resemblance of peace, like some ancient Heroic statue of some deity or warrior. With chiseled features and a haunting beauty to his expression. This was so much worse. It was _wrong_ , like death perversed in a twisted grimace he couldn’t tear away from.

Bonner and Babic trudged inside from the courtyard, dusting their hands off and breathing heavy after an extensive stint of sparring they had been doing in the basement. Bonner had a bruise blooming along his jaw where Babic got a good shot in on him, and the remnant traces of blood from yet another nose bleed that stained the front of his shirt. Babic wasn’t any less marked up by his counterpart and both looked slightly annoyed at being interrupted. Their annoyance shifted to bewilderment then to shock when they laid eyes upon the doctor, now wrapped in a blanket tucked firmly around his body. Partially for warmth, but mostly for modesty.

O’Connor quickly explained the plan of action and with his guidance, they made the long tedious and somewhat stressful trek up the two flights of stairs to reach the top floor where Geoffrey’s living quarters was. Bonner, thankfully, kept his smart comments to himself, sensing the concern from their Leader as Geoffrey loomed and fretted through the entire journey until the doctor was safely placed in the hunter’s bed where he could properly take care of him, and better shield him from the morning light.

The trio left them to their privacy, with O’Connor shutting the door behind them with a sympathetic look. Geoffrey ignored it, turning away to inspect the doctor with a critical eye. It made him sick to his stomach. He was the Leader of the Guard of Priwen, this was true. But he loved not only a man, which was already enough of a taboo, but also a Leech. His inner circle didn’t mind this knowledge, having seen and experienced their own fair share of heartbreak. He could see it in their eyes. The knowing looks that only further drove a stake through his chest and twisted it with cruelty.

It was an inevitable fact of life that this, _whatever_ this was that Geoffrey and Jonathan shared, wouldn’t last. One of them would succumb to the mortal coils. Either the wiles of time or a vengeful mortal, their end was only a matter of time. Geoffrey had thought that that harsh truth only made what they had all the more sweeter, but it felt bitter in his mouth now, a sour bile edging up his throat at the thought of losing Jonathan indefinitely. Or being forced to make the hard choice one of these days, should he slip up.

Maybe he was just kidding himself with these fairytale moments of peace and the blissful exploits that they reveled in, falling into each other’s arms like the passionate lovers of some far flung two shilling romance.

It was hard to think about, Geoffrey would admit. He pinched the bridge of his nose, massaging the corners of his eyes with a weary groan. He shook the thoughts from his mind, forcing himself to ignore these toxic thoughts and feelings that snuck up on him. This was common, he reminded himself. Second guessing when grief crept over the sanctity of his life was a process all its own, one that he didn’t want to humor any longer. Instead he focused on changing his blood stained clothes and finding something cleaner and more comfortable to rest in. He had a stack of reports that would numb his mind and ease him out of the wound up tension that had curled into every limb like a cable drawn taut. It was only a matter of time before it snapped and took his sanity with it.

The night fluctuated between moments of extended silence with O’Connor stopping to check on them both with a timid knock requesting permission. He brought a light meal and a cup of tea up for Geoffrey, accompanied by the larger man imploring him to eat something. Geoffrey kept his head down as he filled out documents and glared a hole through the seemingly endless reports that cluttered his desk each night. Realizing he wasn’t going to make any headway with the Leader, he turned his attention to Jonathan, checking on his injuries to ensure the boys didn’t jar anything too much. The stitches had helped some, a few of the milder injuries had healed up nicely. The worse off ones were nasty in comparison but looking better than they had. He deposited a fresh bottle of blood on the nightstand beside the bed for when Jonathan woke up. Geoffrey was grateful. The thought had slipped his mind, as shameful as that was.

As the night dragged on, Geoffrey formed a headache from staring at the papers. All the letters and handwriting were blurring together in incoherent lines that he couldn’t make any sense of at all. He shook his head and leaned back in his chair, the frame groaned in protest to the adjusted weight, as did his back and shoulders. He rolled them around a few times, flexing and attempting to stretch them out and relieve himself of the burdens to no avail.

He checked the time and realized dawn was near. With a stifled groan, he pushed himself to his feet and checked his windows to ensure there was no chance of ill fated sunlight slipping in. He wandered around the room, feeling lost and uncertain as weariness plucked along his thoughts and beckoned him to submit. He was caught at a crossroads, trying to figure out what exactly he was to do about his current predicament. The muddled mess of feelings left a tight knot in his chest. Eventually he conceded to the pain that antagonized him and forced himself to make a decision.

He offered a long look towards Jonathan, the subtle rise and fall of near stillness in his chest. The pallor that was further accentuated by mournful shadows. The puckered red lines that crested every stitch as his body attempted to heal. The bitter clenching in his stomach didn't ease. He returned to his desk, with a spare blanket from his wardrobe and the stake he kept on his person now laid out upon the desktop in easy reach. He settled down with a tired grunt, prepared to spend the rest of the day asleep in his chair.

  
  


Geoffrey wasn't sure what it was exactly that he expected. When he woke up, stiff and incredibly sore from the uncomfortable position all day, he found Jonathan hadn't moved an inch from where Geoffrey had left him. Daylight had still lingered along the edges of the building, another hour remained before his presence would be needed among his men. Knowing well that Jonathan will not wake until darkness blanketed London, he took a moment to go about his usual routine. His body protested every movement, stiff and unsteady as he forced it through the motions of cleaning up and getting dressed.

O'Connor knocked at his door when he was just shrugging on his coat. His fingers busied with adjusting the collar as he called for his Second to enter. He came with a meal tray. Geoffrey had a habit of missing meal times, but his Second always set aside something for him, often bringing it up with a cup of tea. It was an unusual system that sometimes made his Second feel more like a Nursemaid and not the 6"9 war dog he was. O'Connor had that strange ability to be terrifyingly aggressive in battle but as gentle as a lamb when among their ranks. Maybe in another life, he was a caregiver primarily and this life forced him to fluctuate between the two extreme natures that built the foundations of who he was.

Either way, Geoffrey acknowledged the fact Priwen wouldn't run as smoothly as it currently does without the man by his side. He kept every man's interest at heart. He was the one they could all rely on no matter what.

The thought made Geoffrey still as he considered the fact Reid was very much the same. A fighter and a caregiver. A man of two vastly different natures, with tender hands that could heal or turn into vicious claws that could hurt. A velvety voice that could sooth and console, or a silver tongued monster that could mesmerize and control. He balanced these two sides as easily as O'Connor balanced between his own, the duality of man. But mankind has just as much potential to become monsters, does that mean that monsters share an equal potential to be good men? It was a troubling thought and honestly, he didn't want to entice it any more. Geoffrey was tempted to go looking for a strong drink to numb it all away and make it all go quiet. The temptation of course halted at the reminder of his current duties. He was Reid's only companion in these trying times. The only one he could trust to take care of him, and should his state become so dire that his true nature rears itself, Geoffrey will be the one to end his misery.

O'Connor placed the tray on the desk and took a moment to inspect the doctor's injuries. "Most of them have healed up." The Irishman explained. "I can take the stitches out later if you'd like."

"I can do it, don't worry." Geoffrey assured. He's done it for himself enough times that's for certain. O'Connor nodded in understanding. With nothing more to tend to, he collected the tray from the night before and left but not before a stern reminder for Geoffrey to eat before the food got cold. He submitted to his Second's mothering and leaned with his hip against his desk as he cradled the plate and shoveled food into his mouth as quickly as possible. The quiet scrape of the fork against the dish made him wince but before long, he was done and could throw himself into other aspects of work.

He had a spare kit in his desk for the nights when he was too stubborn to get properly stitched up or injuries taken care of. Collecting it, he dragged a chair over to Reid's bedside where he laid out the tools and started the long slow tedious task of removing each and every stitch O'Connor sewed into the ekon.

His fingers ached and his hand was starting to cramp about halfway through. He couldn't imagine how Reid did this all day every day. He sat the tweezers and scalpel down, flexing his fingers and stretching his hands out in little motions to relieve the cramping when he noticed something off. Geoffrey stilled in his seat when he figured out what it was exactly. Reid's eyes were open. He hadn't moved an inch but he was staring up at the ceiling with a distant glazed expression. It sent a cold dread rushing through Geoffrey, his mind thoughts darted towards the stake he left behind him on his desk. Silently cursing himself for letting his guard down, he carefully tried to gauge his level of lucidity.

"Jonathan?" His words were wary as he adjusted in his seat, trying to get a clearer look at the doctor. There was no acknowledgment or even any sort of reaction. "Jonathan." Geoffrey repeated more firmly now, his heart beat much faster as fear gripped it. Would he be able to recognize his surroundings? Geoffrey heard how Reid described the hunger when it was at its worst. What he experienced when he attacked his sister. The first and only life he ever took as an ekon.

He took a chance, a very stupid one he suspected but did so nonetheless. Geoffrey reached out to grip Jonathan's hand in his. He watched the ekon's lips curl back into a snarl, baring his fangs for the hunter to see but he didn't attack. He didn't even move. His gaze was fixed straight ahead as if still lost in some fevered dream. Geoffrey wove his fingers between Jonathan's, the warmth of his own pressed against his cooler palm. Jonathan's fingers curled around Geoffrey's, the sharp presence of claws was a startling touch against the back of the hunter's hand, tracing over his knuckles. He forced himself to relax and calm his nervous pulse. This was Jonathan. This was the man he loved. The man, who beyond all expectation, continuously defied his true nature.

"Jonathan." He spoke softly, his voice lower and closer to his ear now as Geoffrey leaned in and reached up to caress the side of his head. His fingers combed through the disheveled dark locks as his thumb drew a gentle line across his cheekbone. The ekon's eye fluttered shut as a pathetic whine formed in his throat. Jonathan tilted into Geoffrey's palm, nuzzling into the touch of a living person. For the first time since he woke, the ekon opened his eyes and looked directly at the hunter. There was something sad and desperate in his gaze. A painful pull that extended into Geoffrey's chest as if it would suffocate him with its iron grasp.

He noticed the way Jonathan's lips curled. The quiet impulses that beckoned him to bite into tender supple flesh. The way the doctor forced his jaw shut, lock jawed and refused to give in to the carnal needs. Those incessant desires that lured him towards tragedy with such sweet songs. His Jonathan was still in there, fighting that sickening song of madness that infected every leech with its lies and promises.

"Here. I have something for you." Geoffrey reassured, his hand drew away from the ekon's face, pulling a whine from his throat as he tilted his head to follow it. "I'm not leaving." Geoffrey placated. "See."

What he sought was the bottle of blood O'Connor had brought him earlier in the morning. Geoffrey wasn't sure what kind of blood it was, but he doubted Reid would care. He pulled the cork and grimaced at the smell, his nose wrinkled up at the pungent odor. However, it was like catnip to the ekon, his pupils shrank to pinpoints as he honed in on the food source. Geoffrey helped him sit up having to juggle the bottle in one hand while adjusting pillows and bedding around his back. The container was nearly knocked free of his grasp as Jonathan made a mad scramble for the source of the delectable scent. He drained it with every desperate swallow, tongue searching for the wayward drops that slowly dribbled from the mouth of the bottle. Geoffrey assumed this was what it looked like giving water to a dying man in the desert.

The horrid pallor looked less severe with a bit of blood in his body. It wasn't warm or fresh, so the supply was limited in its resourcefulness. The ekon groaned, pawing at the blankets with very human fingers as he inspected his broken leg. Geoffrey will admit, watching a leech reset or regrow bone was possibly the most disturbing thing he's ever witnessed, _hearing_ it didn't offer him any more relief. He grimaced and settled back in his chair as he watched the glossy look in the doctor's eyes slowly recede as if the blood were some miracle medication. He supposed in a way, it was. He took the bottle back from Reid and set it on the nightstand. Jonathan's attention focused on the abandoned tools that Geoffrey had been working with to painstakingly remove his stitches. The job was incomplete and in true Dr. Jonathan Reid fashion, he took them into his own hands and started to finish the task. The blankets pooled around his waist as he worked, cutting thread and pulling it carefully through the skin with tweezers. His body eagerly discharged the items and healed quickly after so that not a single mark remained.

The splint was haphazardly removed, the broom handle and belts dropped over the edge of the bed to fall noisily on the floor. Geoffrey watched with a mixture of amusement and fascination as the doctor's studious gaze fixed on every wound. He did have to rely on Geoffrey's help at one point, a section across his shoulder needed to be pulled out but the angle was too tedious for the ekon. Silently, he held the tools out to the hunter and turned expectantly to expose the wound. Geoffrey worked quietly to remove each piece until not a single speck remained on the doctor.

It was strange, sitting here in the silence. Reid looked lost, the way he fiddled with the blankets around his body if only to keep his hands busy. He still had that far off look in his eyes as he adjusted and listened to every sound. He'd twitch and flinch at fast movements and look at the hunter longingly. It was hard to refuse when Jonathan wiggled over on the cot so he was pressed against the wall and patted the edge of the bedding. Geoffrey sighed and submitted to the request, settling down beside the ekon. Jonathan nestled his face into the crook of his shoulder as he cuddled up to Geoffrey's side. A raspy noise fumbled in his throat, a cross between human and not, that Geoffrey couldn't make out. 

"Did you damage your vocal cords?" The hunter asked after a moment of contemplation, snaking an arm around Jonathan's shoulder to tuck him close to his chest. The blanket was adjusted to envelope them both as they tangled together in a haphazard attempt to fit on the considerably small bed. 

Geoffrey was answered with a nod from Jonathan and a croaked sound of affirmation. At least he could get some peace and quiet now, reassured that the man he loved wasn't turning into a feral beast. Just, for the time being, he sounded like a chain smoking bullfrog. Geoffrey smiled at the thought and pressed a kiss to Jonathan's forehead, relishing in the familiar weight of his lover against his chest. His fingers gently carding through Reid's hair in little relaxing motions, drawing a sickly rumble from the ekon's throat that was more akin to a puttering engine. This was definitely going to take some getting used to until his voice healed up. Otherwise, the hunter won't be able to take him seriously at all.

**Author's Note:**

> What attacked him was a cat. A couple of feral cats actually that decided they wanted to fight over one tasty bat.


End file.
